


está lejos de casa

by traceable



Category: Elite (TV)
Genre: Canon pairings mentioned briefly, Gen, Gen Work, Post-Season/Series 03
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-18
Updated: 2020-04-18
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:15:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23725195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/traceable/pseuds/traceable
Summary: his american accent, decidedly and unapologetically american, sounds nothing like the tones of home.orcarla + a short walk far away from home.
Relationships: Carla Rosón Caleruega/Polo
Comments: 6
Kudos: 15





	está lejos de casa

**Author's Note:**

> i'm pretty much an insomniac at this point during lock down and while i told myself i wasn't going to write fic anymore...i binge watched this series and i love all of my trash children so here's 800-something words of carla character focus because why not. 
> 
> (apologies for the spanish - i'm still learning and if things look out of place let me know. cheers).

‘ _carla...ross. rosón cale-roo-ega?’_

his pronunciation of her name sounds like sandpaper feels. it almost echoes in a way it shouldn’t, standing in the courtyard in front of the sign in table, surrounded by hundreds of other students picking up their welcome packs. 

his american accent, decidedly and unapologetically american, sounds nothing like the tones of home. 

carla purses her lips into a thin line when the man looks up at her to check if he got that right. she nods, short and sweet, and he smiles. (they always do). before giving her the envelope. 

_‘okay so, there’s map in there and if you head around to the back there will be the tour lines...um, i think some of them will have like little name tags on so if you need someone-’_

carla, as politely as she can, interrupts. ‘thank you.’ her accent still betrays her slightly but it doesn’t turn her words into gravel in her mouth. ‘i can manage.’

she takes the envelope and her leave. the sounds of her more sensible heels highlighting her getaway while she’s more than sure the confounded man is staring at the way her hips sway. 

carla flips the envelope over. they’ve misspelt her name. not in the way that she expected but with a ‘k’ instead of ‘c’. quaint. it’s a formality. international students arrived a week ago and settled into their dorms. or at least that’s what she would have been doing if she was staying there. 

the burning embers of the life she left behind weren’t out like she predicted they would be. the grasp of her father had weakened and thanks to, of all of the friends she had, yeray; she now had a future waiting for her back in madrid. an empire waiting for her to come home. 

in short, she had a small apartment off campus that she was renting instead of staying in shared dorms. partly because she wants the freedom and partly because-

a shoulder pushes into her and knocks her back slightly. _‘sorry!’_ a loud, excited voice offers before the person disappears. 

well, carla wants as much space as she can out here. 

the journey back to her place is a twenty minute walk which she relishes. carla skims through the welcome pack, her eyes flickering back to ‘dartmouth’ at the top of each one, before tucking all of the papers into her tote and taking out her phone. 

new hampshire was a world away from the problems and traumas of life en las encinas. but the people felt closer than ever. 

several updates from valerio about the things he was focusing on and making trouble with that would worry her if not for the emails about how he’s starting to turn some things around. the curt additions from her father than she scrolled past. 

instagram likes that pop up at infrequent times showing her that samuel is still interesting, still active, despite his own last post being hace más de siete semanas.

facebook has her caught up on the happenings with her former classmates and friends despite the timezones. a new year is starting at las encinas for samu and guzman. rebe documents their daily looks and quirks in her timeline; carla sees how rebe’s own self changes in the weeks since her mother came out of prison. omar and ander soften together at last. 

even stateside she seems the glimpses of her closer companions. lu and nadia have settled into a small shared accomodation and are almost affectionately butting heads as they begin their life in new york. they both look free even as they cheese in front of tourist traps and get the feel for new york. carla could have joined them at a school there but it felt like too much connection. 

and then...

and then there’s the last message thread on whatsapp from polo that she can’t delete. all of the bitterness and secrecy and incrimination there but for the life of her she can’t part with it. the knowledge that her last communication with him, her only connection left to him in the world, comes from the last message he ever sent her. gracias te amo. 

carla is a master of fighting back tears over this now that there’s no damage done to her make up as she arrives home. it smells new. it looks new. it feels nothing like the open plan of her childhood home. she can breathe here. she is allowed to take up space and feel deserving of it. 

and no one expects anything of her. 

carla places the papers onto the kitchen counter and sets her bag on a chair. the silence is her comfort. the boring and routine blanket her in their predictability. a welcome change. 

when she sits down, carla rests her head back on the couch until it’s tipping off the back and there’s that blood rush feeling. 

finally she’s free. carla laughs and ends with an exhale. 

‘su sobre el puto tiempo.’


End file.
